


Hold on Tight

by fictive_frolic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Loki is Soft, Reader Insert, Smut, fight me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 10:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20906486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictive_frolic/pseuds/fictive_frolic
Summary: Loki has issues expressing his feelings. That's it. That's the fic.





	1. Chapter 1

You’re in your office, cataloging newly acquired arcane books and preparing to send copies to Wong for a digital database. You’re humming softly with the radio and that’s when you hear it. Thor’s booming voice and one that’s much quieter. Silkier. A voice sent straight from the Goddess to tempt you. And you say a quiet prayer for strength. Loki was coming up the hall and your entire body felt feverish. For no good reason. You didn’t even, especially like Loki. You’d protested him becoming a part of S.H.E.I.L.D and protested even harder when they wanted to put him on your team. You’d done battle with Fury and lost and now Zero hour was here.

Thor barged into your office without knocking and you look up from your manuscript as if you were actually working. “Hello, Thor,” you say before holding a hand out to Loki, “Y/N Y/L/N, pleased to meet you, officially, Loki.” The Trickster looked at his brother and didn’t take the hand you offered, “Thor is this a joke? This is a child. This isn’t…” Your temper roiled over and The door banged shut, before Thor or Loki had time to react you had Loki held magically against the wall, his face turning red as he struggled to breathe. “I. am. not. a. child.” you bite out, “I am the keeper of Secrets. I am the Archive. I am the Queen of this department and you will respect me as such… I am one of the only people in this building who could literally make you disappear without a trace and I will not hesitate to do it if you cross me. Understood?”

Thor stands there flabbergasted. He’s never seen you show your temper like that for so little. He’d hoped your friendly greeting might signal that you had accepted Loki’s inclusion but… evidently not. To be fair, it had been rude. When Loki nods and you let him down gasping and still redfaced, you smile brightly, “Very well, Tea, gentlemen?” Thor politely begs off and leaves Loki in your office so he could laugh without further injuring his brother’s pride.

You set out tea things calmly, cream sugar, honey, snacks. It’s a pleasant little tea set, wood and jade colored ceramics, one that your grandmother had given you when you took the job. Loki watches you warily. He takes a moment to take you in. Your eyes, your skin color, the scars on your hands, the few strands of white threading down from the part of your hair despite your baby face and lack of wrinkles. He’s wary of you but not frightened. Despite your show of temper and your obvious distaste for him he’s heard about, you don’t seem to harbor him any ill will. You hand him a cup of tea and pour your own from the same pot before taking a little honey and some cream. “You’ll have to trust me that the sugar isn’t poisoned,” you say taking a sip, humor sparkling in your eyes.

Loki laughs in spite of himself and takes some, “I’m sorry for my earlier rudeness,” he tries. “It was a bit of a shock not to find some steel-haired matron glowering at me from the other side of your desk.” You smile a little, “It’s a shock to most people. They hear that I’ve become the Archive and think my face aged to match the illustrious title… You’re the first to be so openly disappointed though.” Loki sips his tea and settles back in his chair, “Well,” he says trying his best to be charming, “I can’t say as I mind the view.” You quirk and eyebrow and Loki smiles, “What? I can admire a pretty woman without wanting to take her into the nearest closet and ruin her.” You simply stand and set your cup down, “Loki, if you think you could possibly be the ruination of me, you’re woefully uninformed. That happened long before you darkened my door.” You beckon for him to follow and Loki does, feeling a bit wrong-footed. 

Ordinarily, he’d be enjoying having gotten a rise out of you. Enjoyed making his new prim and proper boss uncomfortable. But today, as he followed you through the tour of your department, he felt like a child being humored. He towered over you, meaning you frequently had to look up at him to answer him. Even then, he knew you weren’t intimidated. Clearly, you and the Black Widow were women not to be trifled with. And he did like strong women. He wasn’t a fan of the idea that women had to cower and be submissive. He liked a fight and he thought he’d probably enjoy fighting with you. You show him to his own office. His own desk and hand him two things. A package of nice pens and a leather-bound journal. A field journal, you explain. A place to jot things down where they wouldn’t be forgotten. It’s the first gift he’s been given in a long time and it makes him even more sorry for trying to bait you and stepping on a private matter.

You excuse yourself and go back to your office, locking the door and picking up a pillow to scream into. You just want to punch him repeatedly in the face. You want to make him leave but you know that isn’t fair. Thor vouched for him. Even Natasha vouched for him. He deserved a chance. But Goddess damn him and Goddess damn that voice of his. Every word, even the ones meant to hurt you or irritate you had been like water in the desert. You hated him for it but you hated yourself more. You turn up your radio to drown out the echoes of it in your ears and try to get back to work.

Loki leaves his office and goes in search of Thor. On the way, he finds several Avengers. Clint asked him how his taste of your temper felt with a smirk. Steve watched him warily but said nothing. Thor, the bastard was telling Bruce and Tony what had happened in your office. He looked distressed. “I thought she might actually kill him,” Thor said with a groan, “And I just stood there… What do you even do when she puts someone in a hold like that?” Bruce shrugged, “Hulk usually just picks her up and breaks her concentration.” Tony noticed Loki first and smirked, “Get thrown out already?” he asked. Loki shook his head, “No but I came in search of my brother.” Thor turned and smiled, “I’m glad to see your survived the rest of the afternoon, where is Y/N?” Surprisingly it was Tony who answered, “Probably a training room with Natasha. They have a routine on Fridays.”

“Excellent,” Thor said, “I have long wanted to spar with Y/N. She’s a formidable swordswoman.” Thor strode out of the lab leaving Loki no choice but to follow if he wanted a word. 

“$50 says she fucks him before Monday,” Tony said. 

“I’ll see your 50 and raise you 50 that she punches him in the mouth long before she fucks him,” Bruce snorted.


	2. Chapter 2

“Really, Loki,” Thor said, “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Y/N is lovely.” Loki couldn’t really disagree. After you’d threatened him you’d given him tea and a journal. “Still,” he says, “I think I’d be better suited to another department.” Thor shook his head, “You’re an expert on Magic, Loki,” he said, “You and Y/N should be getting along famously. Really. Give her a chance.”

“Me, give her a chance?” Loki asked, incredulously, “She choked me out against a wall.” Thor winked, “Good thing you like that, huh?” Loki felt his cheeks color, “That happened one time,” he protested. Thor’s booming laugh brought any further conversation to a halt as he burst through the doors.

You were, indeed, sparring with Natasha and you appeared to be in intense conversation with her as you did it. You were focused and you hadn’t even noticed Thor bursting into the room. Natasha hadn’t either. You had a heavy training sword in your hand and not a hint of magic. Loki wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation and he was grateful. 

“Tasha,” you say, blocking a blow, “I’m not kidding. This is a bad idea.” The spy laughed, “Scared, little Witch?” You could scream in frustration, “No, I am NOT, scared.” Natasha raised an eyebrow suggestively, “Horny?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point!” you say knocking her wrist away with the flat edge of your sword. “If he says one more condescending thing to me, I will hit him.” Natasha rolls out of the way and sweeps your feet out from under you, forcing you to roll away from her to maintain the grip on your sword. “It’s been a long time since you and Maverick split,” she pointed out, “Have you really not been with anyone since?” You snort, “Not unless you count my Rabbit.” Natasha made a sympathetic face, “That’s awful, Jesus Christ you must be dying.” You catch her eye and glance towards where Thor and Loki are walking closer and the spy falls silent. “Sorry to interrupt, Ladies,” Thor said jovially “But I have long wanted to spar with Lady Y/N.” Loki can literally see the stares to words translation of the conversation you and Natasha are silently having. You’re begging the Spy to please not leave you alone with the pair of them. 

Your nerves look frazzled and Loki decides it’s best to just keep quiet. He doesn’t know what to make of you and he doesn’t actually even know what your job is. He just knows you’re a literal archive of arcane knowledge. Thor steps into the ring with you and you fall back into a stance. You’re small and built for speed. Built to sneak. Thor is big and lumbering compared to you. 

The trickster takes a moment, admiring your form. It’s comely he supposes. More softness over your musculature than he’d have guessed but then, it works. Becoming the archive only did so much to change your physical body. You’re stronger now. Longer-lived. But you’d been a professor before and you still looked like one. Natasha looks sideways at Loki and clears her throat, “If you harm one hair on her head, I’m going to kill you,” she said. It’s not a threat. It is a promise. Loki looks at her and she smirks, “Tony has $50 on her fucking you by Monday… I think you’re going to have to wait longer than that.” Loki gaped at her, “I don’t want to have sex with her,” he said. Natasha gave him a look and smirked. “Yes you do,” she said, “You’d have fucked her in the office if you hadn’t put your foot in your mouth.” Loki winced. He knew he couldn’t lie about it. He would have. He would have bent you over the desk and taken you right there. But after his comment, your crispness had shut him down. 

You help Thor off the ground and walk out of the ring. Natasha smirked, “She likes lilacs,” she murmured. She handed you water and together, arm in arm you walked out of the training room. You leaned your head on Natasha’s shoulder and Loki watched a little envious. He couldn’t see you ever touching him so casually. 

That night at dinner you’re polite to Loki but otherwise, keep your distance. He watches as you joke with Barton and Steve about something. He himself is quiet. Not everyone on the team wants him there and he knows it. You don’t really even want him there but at least you try and be civil. during the film that plays, you and Natasha sit on a sofa, legs over each other. Natasha watches the movie and you read. Engrossed in your book, you hardly notice anything. Loki watches you discreetly. The curve of your fingers as you touch the pages. The look of concentration in your eyes. 

He wonders what kind of kisser you are idly. He bets that you’re slow. That any encounter is going to be better when you can take your sweet time about it. Clint flips a rubber band at you and hits the bottom of your foot making you jump and brings you out of your little bubble. You look annoyed. That makes Loki amused. “What, Clint?” you say stretching. Barton laughs, “How can you read through all this,” he asks gesturing around at the general chaos of chatter and cuddling couples. “Years of practice and family vacations that necessitated being stuck in a car with my family for days on end.” Natasha smiles, “Leave our Little Witch alone, Clint,” she says fondly, “At least she’s down here and not hiding in her room.” You blush, “I just never need to be down here… It’s not like I can add anything to any of the conversations. I’m not much of a fighter compared to all of you.”

Natasha untangles herself from you and you get off the couch, “Speaking of hiding in my room,” you say, “I have some emails to answer. There’s probably another acquisitions trip in my future.” You excuse yourself quietly, padding up to your room. Loki was mostly quiet but you’d swear he skimmed his fingers over the inside of your wrist when he passed you a napkin at dinner. And any time he did speak his voice made you want to either kiss him or punch him you couldn’t decide. You could feel him watching you and you figured he was just plotting retribution for your show of temper. Oh well. He wouldn’t be the first. Safely in your room and away from everyone you can relax. 

Stark had modified the walls somewhat for you. They blocked more sound and you had the ability to block the windows as well. Sensory overload was a very real danger as the archive. You had so much in your very human brain that you often couldn’t take loud noises or bright lights. Music helped. Time alone helped. Being so aware of Loki did not. So instead of lashing out at him, you retreated. It wasn’t his fault that his voice made you feel so many conflicting things. You run a bath and relax in the hot water, letting yourself drift. Your ears under the water until the world sound foggy and far away. The tub is huge. Enough for 3 or 4 people and you just sprawl out. Enjoying the bubbles and the calm. You practice being nothing. Nothing exists outside of the water. Not Loki, not work, not your loneliness. Nothing. You are nothing and there is nothing. It’s soothing. It’s soothing and it relaxes you enough that for once, you don’t need to spend some quality time with your rabbit to get to sleep.

When the lilacs show up on your desk, you smile. They’re out of season. It’s the dead of winter and they smell as if they’re fresh from the sunshine. It’s not every day. Just every few days when the blossoms start to wilt. It’s nice. You assume it’s Natasha. Or maybe Clint. They’ve been aware that you’ve been struggling. Greg your former lover had found another woman. She was your opposite in every way and it hurt. You couldn’t seem to get away from them either. Your department and R&D had been working together closely and so you attended all the same meetings. Gianna was a nice girl. Cute. But god her laugh was like nails on a chalkboard. The meetings were excruciating and your migraines intensified. 

10 years as the Archive and your brain was still adjusting. Still rewiring to accommodate the information that was constantly coming in. If you focused, there was no written information you had ever seen that you could not recall. And you had read a lot of information and continued to absorb more all the time.

Once after a particularly loud meeting, migraine threatening to burst your skull in two, Loki appeared by your side, a bottle of cold water in hand. “How can I help you, Loki?” you say, trying to be kind but wincing at the sound of your own voice.

“Are you alright?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet. “I’m fine, thank you.” you say, “It’s only a headache.” The migraine takes exception to being called a mere headache and throbs viciously making you pale. Loki takes your arm gently and leads you to the elevator, “I think you should lay down,” he said, “You sat through that whole meeting eating pills like candy and cringing anytime someone wrote words on paper.” You lean on his arm unconsciously and swallow hard. The pain is so intense you feel sick and your knees are struggling to hold you. Loki feels his heart flutter a little bit.

He’d watched your sweet smile every morning when fresh Lilacs appeared on your desk. He’d watched your ex go out of his way to flaunt his new relationship. He watched you quietly take care of everyone. Even him. You brought him tea at the same time. Every day. No matter what argument he’d just gotten into with you. Sometimes in the middle of the argument, you’d just hand him tea. You refused to let him win. It disarmed his anger at you every time. He learns your humor. He learns your passions. He learns that you’re lonely. A part of the team but apart. They don’t understand you and you know it because you know when anyone writes things about you. It makes him understand the protectiveness that Romanoff and Barton seem to have for you. They recruited you. He wants to protect you. Especially now as he watches you struggle to stand against the pain in your head. Today is a bad day. A very bad day.

“Hold on tight,” he says quietly, picking you up gently to carry you. “Loki,” you protest weakly, “I can walk.” The god chuckles softly and chances brushing his lips against your head, “Hardly, Y/N,” he says. Your head throbs and you whimper quietly. You don’t have any choice but to close your eyes and let Loki carry you. You lay your head on his shoulder and sigh. He smells nice. Like the cold outside and pine. Not nasty artificial smells. He takes you to your room and lays you gently on the nearest couch, “FRIDAY, activate sensory overload protocol, please,” you request quietly. The lights go down to almost nothing and the noise outside your door gets softer and further away sounding. It helps but doesn’t stop the pain. All you can do about that is hug it until it fades.

Loki tucks a blanket over you and presses a cool cloth to the back of your neck. You don’t know when he got it but you sigh again. It feels nice. He helps you take a pain pill and curls up in another comfortable chair, helping himself to one of your books. He’s prepared to watch over you, keep you from drowning in the tub or something. He isn’t prepared for you to be slightly loopy.

“Thank you, Loki,” you say softly, your head cushioned on your arm. “You’re welcome, Y/N,” he said smiling a little. You were always so polite. Even when you argued with him. Calmly but assertively telling him he was wrong. “Your voice is nice,” you say, contented smile on your face, “It helps when you aren’t making me want to punch you in the teeth.” Loki raises an eyebrow but smiles, “I shall endeavor not to do that, today.” He keeps his voice soft and watches as you close your eyes, some of the pained tension leaving your features. Your sigh is enough to put him in mind of much less… innocent circumstances. But he pushes those thoughts aside. You’re in no shape for him to be pushing his current advantage. “Shall I read to you?” he asked. You look up at him, a childlike, delighted smile on your lips, “Would you? Really?”

The Trickster didn’t have the heart to tell you he’d been kidding, “Only if you promise to close your eyes and get some sleep,” he says. You nod and settle in on the sofa, eyes closed and cuddling a pillow. Once you’re settled Loki starts to read. He loses himself in the story and reads to you until long after you’ve drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki watches you carefully after that day. He can read the migraines coming in the way you hold your head, the way you pop your neck, the way you avoid certain people. Namely him. It makes him feel bad for all the times he’s goaded you when you were already struggling to be effective. He searches the massive library for information on your powers and surprisingly, there is none. No one, save perhaps Barton or Natasha actually knows the extent of what you can do. Though everyone has opinions. 

He hears the light tread of your feet outside his door and stops reading, glancing at the clock. 3pm. He smiles to himself. Tea time.

You don’t bother to knock, letting yourself in and simply setting tea on the corner of his desk. Just the way he likes it. Often, you don’t say anything to him. You simply set it down and leave. Today is one of those days but he glances up to watch you go. You’re dressed up. A satin dress, flats, and your hair in an elegant twist. “Going somewhere?” he asks. 

“I have a date,” you say with a careless shrug. “Do you?” he says. Something twists in his chest and he feels vaguely nauseous. And angry. “Yes,” and you don’t elaborate. You simply leave. The scent of your perfume hanging in the air. Loki stares at the closed office door for a long moment, listening to your light steps fade in the hall. He’s furious. He knows this person isn’t going to look after you. They don’t know when a migraine is going to pound through your skull and leave you vulnerable. They don’t know you. He knows they don’t. Not the way he does. He fantasizes for a moment. Dreaming of chasing you down the hall and kissing you until you’re breathless and disheveled. But he doesn’t. He slams the ancient tome he’s researching closed roughly and shoved back from his desk, standing so rapidly he knocks the chair over and goes in search of Thor. He’s in the training room, Sparring with Steve. 

One look at Loki’s stormy expression makes him laugh, “Did Y/N best you in another argument?” he asked as Loki picked up his daggers. Steve snorted, “To be fair,” he said, “She does have the upper hand. Eventually, she’ll know anything that has ever been physically written down. Loki doesn’t reply to either one of them. He simply takes a stance and waits. He’ll fight one of them. Or both of them. He doesn’t care. But all this anger has to go somewhere before he sees you again. Before he does something rash. 

Steve looks at Thor and steps back to let the two of them duke it out. He watches the fight critically, assessing strengths and weaknesses calmly. Loki is fucking pissed. This isn’t an argument he lost pissed. This is… He pauses. Thinking about the way he’d seen you walk out of the building. You were dressed for going out. Out, out. You’d looked gorgeous. The thought was enough to make Steve choke. The Asgardian was jealous. He’d seen the way Loki tried to look after you. Seen the way he tried to mitigate the force your migraines exerted on you. He thought it was just friendly. Or maybe self-preservation since when you were out of your department your team wasn’t as… Civil. He pulls out his phone and texts Natasha. 

“Who did Y/N have a date with?” 

“Some emotionally stunted “Artist” she met in the Village, why?” she responds.

“Any chance of it working out?” 

“Why, Rogers, you trying to get her on the rebound?” 

“No, Jesus no. I just think Loki might be harboring a crush.”

“Did you just now figure that out? We’ve all had a betting pool going for weeks”

“You’re all degenerates.”

“Okay but someone needs to get laid in that office soon or the combined sexual frustration is going to kill us all.”

Steve rolls his eyes and puts his phone away. Loki seems to be winding down as the audience watching grows. Steve idly wonders if the betting pool is in hard copy someplace. He hopes not. it’s one thing for Natasha to tease you about your love life. It’s another for the entire team to do it and another still for you to know about it and not be able to tell anyone. Sometimes, he doesn’t wonder why you spend so much time alone. You know things you can’t tell another living soul. Not one person. No matter how juicy the gossip is. He doesn’t envy you. If he had to know all these things against his will, he’d never leave his room. He’d never be able to unsee the things he’s read.

Loki manages to best Thor, a blunted dagger to his throat and a foot in the middle of his chest. They’re both panting and Thor looks concerned, “Come, Brother,” he said holding out a hand for Loki to help him up, “That sort of ferocity deserves a drink.” Loki pulls Thor to his feet and together they walk out of the training room. 

Comfortably kicked back in Thor’s rooms, Thor hands him a beer and thunks down in his favorite chair. Loki takes it but says nothing. He still looks angry but less likely to misbehave. Thor similarly stays quiet, at least for a moment. 

“Lady Y/N looked exceptionally lovely this afternoon,” he says lightly, studying his bottle and not looking at Loki. Loki snorted and took a sip of his beer.

“Loki,” he chuckled, “You can’t hide this sort of thing from me. I know what she does to your loins, if not to your heart.” The Trickster felt his neck heat and he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you’re part of that asinine little bet.” Thor shook his head, “I’d not do something so cruel,” he said. He didn’t approve of the team’s cavalier attitude towards their beloved Archive’s love life. Or that so many of them wanted to see Loki fail to win your affections. He liked you. You were kind. Strange. But kind. And sometimes funny. Thor watched some of the tension leave Loki’s shoulders and sighed. “Tell her, Brother,” he said, “Before it’s too late.”

The God of Mischief sighed, “And what if she will not have me?” Thor shrugged, “At least then you’ll know.” Loki sets down his beer and stalks out of the room. You need new Lilacs on your desk and he needs time to think.

_______________________________

In the morning, you’re at your desk, lovingly adding water to the vase of perfectly purple lilacs on your desk. You look well rested and focused. Not the least bit dreamy-eyed or remotely infatuated. Loki lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He’d had a terrible thought that you might actually love this man. But, seeing you now going about your morning as if you hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, he had a small hope. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said stiffly.

You smile at him. The same Smile you give him every morning. “Good Morning, Loki,” you say. “I was just about to come to find you.” He raises an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“I have to go home for a few days, I wanted to warn you,” you say softly, “I know everyone else isn’t as… Civil when I’m not here.”

Something flickers in your eyes and Loki perched on the corner of your desk. You’re calm and composed but there’s something just below your composure. Now that he’s closer to you, he can see that you’ve been crying. Not perhaps for an hour, but the redness hasn’t quite faded from your eyes. He wants to ask. He wants to say something about your date. But the thin skin of your composure stops him dead. You’re hurt. Badly. Hurt enough to run away. To retreat and lick your wounds. “I will be fine, I am sure,” he said, trying to sound cocky. 

Truth be told it wouldn’t be until you got back that he’d step foot in his office. He’d find other places to be. You nod, looking away from him and pushing back from the desk. There are papers littered across your normally tidy workspace. “If you’re sure,” you say heading towards the door. Loki wants to stop you. To feather a kiss across your lips and plead with you to stay even though you say it’s only for a few days. “Lock up after me?” you ask. And he has no choice but to nod as he hears your light tread half sprinting down the hall.

It’s only then that he looks at the scattered pages. 

Things that popped into your head unbidden. Things you know now and can’t unknow.

“Ugly girls aren’t supposed to be so picky.”  
“Y/N isn’t even worth the year I spent with her, honestly.”  
“For someone who knows so much, she’s too fucking stupid to know you only got with her to get the job”  
“She’s just frigid. It’s no wonder she’s a joke to everyone.”  
“For real, let’s just hope Loki snaps and kills her and puts her out of all our misery.”  
“Maybe that was the plan all along,”  
“Hahahahaha”

Loki gathers up the papers carefully, making sure to get each one. Dozens of frankly hateful things. Things written. Things you can’t not access. He watched out the window as you get into a car and speed down the drive, spewing gravel in your wake. Of all the people to hurt. They hurt you. Foolish mortals, he thought. You dare hurt my Archive?


	4. Chapter 4

Loki didn’t know where “home” was for you exactly. He knew you had some family, what was left after whatever had happened that had made you The Archive. He’d never bothered to ask. Neither had most of your team. They seemed to assume you had just sprung up fully formed in a library wearing a cardigan. Those that did know were annoying tight-lipped about it. The Trickster spent the three days you were gone plotting. Plotting and avoiding his office. 

He missed you. Even at your most infuriating, you made him feel… welcome. You listened. Though he supposed it might have more to do with you liking his voice than actually caring what he had to say. It was nice. He’d gotten used to 3pm tea time and the sound of music playing on the other side of the wall. He’d gotten used to Friday sparring and movie nights just knowing you were there. Sneaky jokes and muttered swearing when he irritated you too much. 

Though he didn’t realize how much he missed you until he felt a thrill at the sound of your footsteps in the hall. You were half running and when the door burst open, your hair in a neat bun instead of wild curls and kitted out for a fight instead of a day at a desk, he quirked an eyebrow.

“Loki, suit up,” you say, eyes bright. “There’s shenanigans afoot.” He sighed, “You’ve been in the building 10 minutes and I already have to do things?” He wants to stay aloof but he can’t. He wants to frustrate you and irritate you until you push him away so he can stop feeling like he needs to protect you. You make him want to do reckless things. Things he can’t do now that he’s “reformed”. You fold your arms and glare at him, “Strange and Wong are waiting. Hurry up.” You turn on your heel and head down the hall. Loki sighs. This was supposed to be a desk job. Not a fighting job. He gets his things and follows. By the time Loki arrives, Strange is already in fine fettle, talking down to you as if he himself did not become Sorcerer Supreme only a few years ago. As if you hadn’t been the Archive for 7 years by then. Wong glances at Loki and nods. You’re ignoring Strange for now, talking to Wong to coordinate. Loki watches Strange get more and more frustrated. It’s satisfying in a way. Seeing the man get treated like a recalcitrant child. 

“You’re only the Archive because your mother shot herself in the face,” Strange snapped, “If you actually had to learn anything…” he doesn’t get to finish that sentence. You turn slowly and the look on your face makes him stop. Wong stops. Loki steps towards you, “Y/N,” he said softly. You hold up a hand, “Strange,” you say slowly, “For the good of this mission, I’m going to ask you to reign it in. My mother may have had to die for me to become the Archive but at least. At the very least, before she did that she taught me how to behave. If you really, really want to have a magical dick measuring competition later, fine. We will. But you will lose. I will end you.” You’ve walked Strange against the wall, magical energy is crackling around you making the hair on the back of everyone’s necks stand up. The full power of the Archive is unknowable because the boundaries of that power are known only to the Archive themselves. They are power. They are Knowledge. Wisdom comes with time. 

Loki knows one thing. Strange is arrogant and you are young. Before he can think about it he grabs you and spins you away from Strange, using his strength to hold you in place and he kisses you. Bruising his lips against yours. It’s like touching a live wire. Like being hit by a truck. Like a sudden unexpected drop. It’s thrilling and terrifying, and it hurts. There’s so much energy coursing through you that it hurts. But, it does break your concentration nicely. When he pulls away from you, there’s a different fury on your face. 

It’s hurt. The flicker of it makes Loki’s chest hurt. He isn’t expecting the punch or he’d have blocked it. “If you ever do that to me again,” you warn, “I will literally knock your teeth out.” You’d checked the blow. You’d hit his jaw. And he can’t even be mad. You hadn’t wanted to be kissed but he hadn’t wanted to watch you murder Strange, either. Well… he shook his head as he took his seat. That would be bad. Bad for you and for him. 

You sit down, signaling to the pilot to go. Your face schooled into calm you don’t feel. This mission is doomed. And the Goddess is testing you. you had desperately wanted Loki to keep kissing you but not… Not like that. Not out of… what? Pity? Fear? Curiosity?

You don’t look at any of them. Strange is blessedly quiet and Loki stays near you. Protective of you even after you punched him. He hovers near your elbow as you and Wong scurry over ruins. The bruise you left is already healed by the time you return, new scrolls in hand to be cataloged. Wong and Strange depart quickly and as you walk down the ramp, Tony discreetly palms Bruce $100. You don’t see it but Loki does. He sees it and it angers him.

Natasha takes you by the arm and takes you to your room. “Girl time,” she says coaxingly. You go, reluctant and protesting.

Loki is alone after that. He wants to be with you. Wants to talk to you. Wants to tell you that your ex and his new woman have been fighting. He wants to talk to you about the papers he found. He wants to read to you again. Anything to be near you after being separated. 

It isn’t until he sees you the next day, trapped in a meeting, struggling against the pain of a beginning migraine while desperately trying to explain to the scientists in R&D the significance of the scrolls you retrieved that Loki gets an idea. He knows that day by day your ability to see things written on paper grows. You can find out things. Anything. Written on paper. You can know them almost instantly. So he takes out the Journal you gave him. The journal he uses to scribble in when he gets bored. And he writes.

“Y/N,” he begins, “loves lilacs… I keep bringing them to her. I really wish she’d realize it was me. I’m too much of coward to tell her. I just like seeing her smile. Even if she’s an insufferable bloody know it all.”

He glances up and watches your cheeks turn the softest shade of pink he’s ever seen. Some of the tension melts out of your face and he feels his heart skip a beat. He knows you can’t unknow that. He puts the journal away and schools his features into a bored expression and waits. You can’t say anything about what he wrote as you walk by him. Secrets are secrets and you must keep them. But the smile you give him sweeps over him like a sweet summer breeze. “It’s almost 3,” you say quietly, “Tea?”

“If you’re up for it,” he says, tucking your hand in the crook of his elbow gently. You’re still struggling, despite the brief respite he was able to give you and he knows that your vision is probably also blurry just from the pain. You nod, wincing and blinking back tears, “I’ll be okay,” you murmur. Loki catches you as you stumble, frowning. “You’re staggering like a fawn,” he said lifting you up gently. “I think I had better make tea today, darling,” he says. You can’t even protest. He feels good. Safe. His step is even and he doesn’t even flinch at laying you gently on your sofa and helping you get pins out of your hair to relieve some of your discomforts. Long elegant fingers card through your hair gently and you groan softly. It feels lovely. The trickster chuckles and gets up to start the kettle. He’s quiet and you wrestle with what you learned. You want to thank him but you can’t. You cannot even speak secrets to the person who wrote them. When he hands you tea and takes his own cup the first words that come out are “I’m sorry.” He pauses, mid-sip, “What for?” he asks. 

“For punching you,” you say quietly, “I know you were trying to help.” Loki shook his head, “I deserved it, honestly.” When you start to protest he holds up a hand, “I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was impulsive and rude. I crossed a line and I was justly served.” You look down at your mug and bit your lip. “You’re not going to stab me in my sleep then?” you ask.

Loki frowns, “No,” he said, “Absolutely not.” You nod, “Thank you,” you murmur. The small smile you give him tells him that Thank You means about a dozen things. All of them make his heart race. All of them make him want to kiss you again. And then never stop.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki watches you sleep for a moment. He’s glad that however briefly, he can know that you are comfortable and relatively safe. He knows that you sleep hard. That sleep isn’t so much sleep as your only refuge from the constant onslaught of information that is your waking hours.

Carefully he sets the book he was reading to you aside and stands, crossing to the couch. He tucks your blanket around you gently and he can’t resist brushing a soft kiss against your temple, “Sleep well my Archive,” he said letting himself sound fond of you instead of slightly put out or bored. You stir and he curses himself softly, “It’s alright, I was just going,” he murmurs. “Don’t go?” you protest through the haze of painkiller and sleep. Loki pauses, his heart pounding. 

“Please don’t go,” you ask again. “You need your rest,” he makes himself say. You open your eyes wincing a little, “Please, I just… I sleep better when you’re here.” You sound like a lonely child. He supposes that part of you still is a terribly lonely child. Alone and scared and in pain. It hits him then that your kindness is because you know he’s lonely too. You know the types of things he writes down. Any of the private thoughts he’d written on Midgard. You can’t talk about them. But you know. So you tried. You brought him tea. You defended him to the rest of your department. You trusted him in your rooms. A place where precious few people were allowed. 

He moves you over on the couch, putting your head on his chest and wrapping his arms around you gently, “You win,” he whispered, “I’ll stay. But only because you might be an insufferable know it all, but you’re my insufferable know it all.” You sigh, relaxing against him and he cards fingers through your hair, “Loki?” you ask softly. “Yes, Y/N?” he answers you lazily, closing his eyes. “Why are you so nice to me?” Loki chuckles, “Because,” he says, “You are mine. I have to keep you safe.” You blush and cuddle closer, nestling in for sleep. Loki holds you gently, “That’s it, darling,” he says, “Back to sleep for a little while. Hold on tight, I’ll not be leaving.” He rubs your back slowly, telling you a story to lull you back to sleep. It feels so nice to just be held. To know that someone is there. You drift off and the Trickster lays awake, listening to your breathing, relishing your weight against his chest. You asked for him. You wanted him to stay. It wasn’t a sonnet about his smile but… It was infinitely more satisfying. You’d never asked for him before. He always had to just be there. Ready to grab your arm to steady you or murmur a joke to diffuse some of the tension in your body. 

When Loki does finally sleep, it’s the best sleep he’s had for a long time. He’s always slept better with someone to hold and your curves make you a lovely candidate for the job. He doesn’t dream for once. There are no nightmares. No dreams of pain and torture. There is only you. A comforting weight on his chest soothing him just by being there. 

It’s your stirring that wakes him. He hears little sleepy sounds and the comfort of your body against his is gone. He sighs and watches you pad towards the bathroom. Loki hears the water start and smiles to himself a little. He goes to his bag and pulls out his journal, “Y/N slept in my arms last night,” he writes, “She asked for me. She wanted me to stay. I tried to tell her, no, but I could not. Not even for her own good.” As he writes he gets more and more honest. He’d just intended to flatter you. But there’s something comforting about knowing that you can see what he’s written in your mind. That he’s not alone with the thoughts that he’s having. “She doesn’t seem to realize that I’m a monster,” he wrote, “And while I am thankful, I know I should not allow myself to get too close. I just cannot stay away from her.” There’s more he wants to say but there’s only so much he can bare at once. He wasn’t trying to burden you with his internal monologue. He just couldn’t seem to make his mouth work around you. He couldn’t just tell you he loved you. 

When you come out of the shower, wreathed in steam and wrapped in your favorite fluffy bathrobe he smiles, bushing his own thoughts aside, “How are you feeling?” he asked. You cross the room and make yourself at home on his lap, unwilling to not be held, “Better,” you murmur. You snuggle close and he wraps his arms around you, warmth filling his chest. When your small, soft fingers brush his jaw he looks down at you. If Loki was sent to you as a test of your patience and will power, you’re sure you’re about to fail. He’s always beautiful, assured and efficient. Strutting around the compound causing trouble just by being. He’s smiling at you softly and your heart is trying to decide what to do. It can’t decide if it wants to race or skip a beat. Loki is still, very still. His hands are politely on your waist and he’s waiting. “I cannot tell you no, Y/N,” he murmurs, “ask it of me and you will have it.” His written words echo in your mind and you tuck a stray section of hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his neck, “Kiss me?” you manage after a moment. 

He smiles and kisses the end of your nose before tilting your chin up to kiss your lips. It’s a slow kiss, sleepy and lazy. A kiss good morning. You melt into him, focused on the feel of his lips against yours and the feel of his body against yours. When he kisses you more insistently, sensing your comfort, you sigh against his lips as his hand tangles in your hair. When Loki finally lets you up for air, you feel light headed. Breathless and disoriented, “Oh,” you say softly, blushing. Loki laughs and kisses you again softly, “You kiss exactly like I thought you would,” he murmurs.

“Have you spent a lot of time thinking about that?” you ask, cheeks hot. Loki brushed his thumb over your lips, “An appalling amount of time.” You smile a little and look up at him, “is that all you thought about?” The Trickster grinned and his hand, the one not still in your hair, toys with the sash of your robe. “No,” he said honestly, “I so much as think of you during the night and I find myself unable to get very much sleep.” 

It’s been so long since you’ve had this. Someone looking at you with their eyes hot and their arousal against your hip. You’ve longed for bare skin under your hands and the feel of someone inside you. The feeling of being with someone so intimately. When you get off Loki’s lap carefully, he’s disappointed for a moment. until your bathrobe is on the floor and you’re standing nude in front of him, holding out a hand, “Take me to bed?” you ask. Loki needs no second request. He’s not had a woman since arriving in Midgard and he craves it. The fact that it’s you only makes him want it more. 

He scoops you up and lightly tosses you on your bed making you giggle. He likes that sound, he decides, making a promise to himself to have you do it as often as possible. He strips himself, baring himself to your eyes and smiles. He’s not modest enough to think he wouldn’t please you but the wonder and the lust that warms your eyes is still pleasing. He crawls across the bed to you slowly and parts your thighs gently. You’re wet. Very wet and he strokes your folds gently, “Someone is in need,” he chuckles, “You poor girl, how long has it been since anyone took you to bed?” You blush and bite your lip, “Not since I was with my ex,” you tell him. Loki frowns and bends his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, “Shame on them, leaving my poor Archive so neglected. I shall have to rectify this situation.” You shiver at the tone of his voice. Lower. More intimate. Seductive. He notices and grins, licking some of your slick off his index finger before kissing a trail of burning kisses down your body. He can feel you struggling to relax, anxious to please him and he smiles to himself, “Just relax, darling,” he said, “Let me carry out all my filthy fantasies and relax. I intend for you to leave this bed thoroughly debauched and satisfied… That’s what will make me most satisfied.” You nod and card your fingers through his hair.

Loki goes straight to work. He’s hungry, greedy for more of your sounds. Craving the feel of skin after so long without the touch of a lover. He tortures you sweetly. He reads every tense and every sigh like an expert navigator with a map. You come apart on his fingers and on his tongue several times before he allows you to come apart on his dick. He makes good on his promise as he makes you say his name over and over again. Coaxing you into coming apart until you’re trembling and crying out to the goddess and Loki in the same breath. When he finally impales you on his prick you moan. He’s huge. So thick and ready. Just the feeling of being so full is enough to shoot a small orgasm through your body despite the pain of the stretch. “Hold on tight, darling,” he pants, “I am afraid I won’t be very gentle.” You smile and roll your hips up to meet him in encouragement, “Don’t be,” you say, “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.” He groans at the sound of profanity on your lips and grins, “As you wish, my lady.” He doesn’t hold back and you don’t either, scratches on his back and bites on his neck as he drives you to come twice more before spilling inside you with a cry.

He stays inside you for a moment, peppering your face with kisses and murmuring endearments as he brings you down gently. You’re not sure if he meant to do it or not, but for the first time after having sex you feel snuggly and warm instead of vaguely grumpy and irritable. There’s no talking really as Loki pulls you into his arms and holds you, but then, you don’t really need words. That had been exactly what you needed, you reflect stretching lazily and nuzzling the god’s chest. Loki chuckled and squeezed your bottom affectionately. Frigid indeed, he thought. That man just didn’t know what buttons to press. Together you doze off, comfortable in each other’s arms. There is nothing outside that bed for either of you. No meetings. No consequences. No one else. Only this. Only comfort and someone to hold on tight to.


	6. Chapter 6

When Loki creeps out of your room after kissing you good morning and promising to bring you coffee, his prayers to not encounter anyone are answered. He isn’t ashamed of having made love to you. He just doesn’t want to be interrogated about it. 

He knows that you’re too honest and you carry too many secrets to let yourself be burdened unnecessarily. You’d come to his arms willingly and he’d loved you sweetly, he had no worries about what you’d say about the experience. You’d been so shy. Uncertain. 

You’d wanted to please him and it confused him that you’d be so submissive. He was confused but pleased. He liked having you biddable. It made it easier to take care of you. He decided that you were his and so you were. It wasn’t until he was in his rooms getting dressed for the day that he really allowed himself to smile over it. You had been lovely. Soft and sweet. His Archive. He was pleased to note that you make love the same way you kiss. It’s best when you’re allowed to take your time and set your own pace. He had left you that morning relaxed and drowsy and he hoped to find you, shy and watering lilacs in your office. 

He doesn’t make it to the office though. He finds Thor long before he makes it to that floor and Thor immediately shoves him into the nearest lounge, “You did it,” he said, blinking in surprise. Loki felt his cheeks heat, “And?” Thor smiled a little, “How do you feel?” he asked. Loki snorted, “Better,” he said. Thor nodded, “Natasha knows,” Thor said, “She and Y/N have talked.” Loki nodded, “I knew they would. Y/N keeps enough secrets that I didn’t expect her to not speak with anyone about last night.” 

Thor nodded, watching Barton and Wilson walk by, “It won’t be long until everyone knows,” he cautioned. Loki shrugged, “Well, I have no intention of hurting her. And I think it’s safe to say that last night is going to happen again. They’re just going to have to deal with it.” Thor shrugged but smiled a little. Loki was always a slightly possessive lover and it evidently was not going to be any different with you, though Thor didn’t think you minded too much if the glimpse of you he had had was any indication. 

Loki went towards his office to make sure you had lilacs and start the coffee. He had learned that you kept caffeine on hand because sometimes, it helped with your migraines. The same with dark chocolate. When you walk into the office, cheeks still burning from your conversation with Natasha. 

After she had stopped teasing you the conversation had been intense. She was a gossip monger but as you told her things, sweating through your workout you knew this was where the gossip stopped. She knew better than most of the team that you needed a release valve for all the things you kept in your head and some of it needed to go somewhere just to get it out. 

Loki handed you a cup of coffee and kissed your cheek, “I hope you had a pleasant morning chatting, but I believe Wong and Strange will be here soon.” You crinkle your nose and sigh, “Fine, admit Wong but make Strange wait. I need to establish ground rules. Strange is notorious for having sticky fingers.”

The Trickster nods and smiles a little, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, “As you wish,” he said kissing the back of your neck gently. You shiver and give him a tiny smile, “Thank you.” Loki waits for Strange and Wong, arms folded. He would have done as you asked regardless, your department was your department and your bed was your bed, but your gratitude was what kept him so still. He heard the quiet request for support. He heard the need to have someone at your back. You had nothing to fear from Strange. He knew that. You knew that. But he also knew as well as you did that condescension was something you could not and would not tolerate. 

When Strange and Wong do appear, they give Loki a look and go to step into your office. Loki holds out a hand, “Wong, go ahead,” he said, “Strange, the Archive has left me orders that you are to wait until she calls you.”

Strange started to puff himself up, working into a bluster but a cold look from Loki stopped him. Wong slips into the office quietly and he can hear the start of a pleasant, orderly chat. Wong had known your mother. The Ancient One had known your mother. They remembered you as a little girl. Underfoot and into everything. Always learning. Strange knew you as an irritant. Someone who knew the things he had no way to know. 

As Stephen Strange pouted, Loki tuned some magic into being able to listen. Wong was amenable to all of it. Your requests were simple. None to demanding. It was a pleasant chat indeed. The two of you talking about things past. Things in your shared memory. Loki smiled a little. You were better suited to being the Archive than you thought.


	7. Chapter 7

When Strange is called into the department, after you and Wong have finished your tea and your chat, he’s ready to be livid. He’s worked himself into a fine bluster but Wong cuts him off, “Stephen,” he says calmly, “You must respect the Archive. She’s a valuable asset to all of us. Even if she is still growing into her powers.” Stephen glares at you, “What business does a 21-year-old have being the source of all this?” he said gesturing at the manuscripts that you’d been making painstaking copies of. 

You laugh bitterly and Loki wants to reach for your hand but folds his together instead. “Well,” you say quietly, “It’s not as if I had any say in the matter, as you yourself pointed out in Greece.” Your eyes start to turn a pearlescent white and energy crackles slightly, book pages fluttering gently. “You will follow what I’ve asked,” you say your voice resonant. “You will do as I have instructed or you will not be permitted,” you say, “For the good of all. For the preservation of Ancient Knowledge, Wong has agreed to be responsible for you. If one tome goes missing, I have been given permission to take it back. By any means necessary. The preservation of this collection is my sacred duty given to my family by the goddess. I will not allow you to deter me from that task simply because you feel I am not fit. I am the Archive. I will not fail in my task.”

Stephen looks from you to Wong and sighs. “Fine, but I want my objections noted,” he said. “Write them down,” you say helpfully pushing a pen in his direction as your eyes turn back to their usual color and the energy disperses. Loki smirks and glances at Wong who is similarly quietly amused. Stephen stalks into the department, Wong gives you a wink and follows. He knows better than anyone that Strange has a lot to learn when it comes to manners in the Supernatural community. 

Loki bows slightly, “Will that be all?” he asks smoothly. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, “Yes, thank you Loki.” The smile you give him is different today. Still kind but sweeter. Less professional and more personal. That pleases him and he’s still internally preening when he walks into his office. He sets his attention to the translation you gave him to do. A language not of Midgard and so out of your scope of knowledge, but he gets very little done. In his mind, he’s turning over the events of the night before. The passion and the desperate longing that he felt in you. At first, he had thought you frigid. A fussy academic with not desires. He’d thought it not surprising that you’d had a recent breakup and few romantic inclinations. But in the moments since, when he’s seen your passions aroused, angry or amorous, he knows better. Frigga would like you, he decides. She has a soft spot for broken baby birds and motherless children. Odin… Well, he thinks. It’s best if you do not fall into his hands. 

You bend your head over the vellum of the blank book you’re working in, carefully transcribing what you pull from your mind. It is an old spell book. Containing knowledge acquired by a Scottish Witch centuries ago. You can feel the magic. Her intents. She was a kind soul. So often, as you transcribe these old books, you feel a pang. She was long dead, killed in fire and agony for daring to defy the Catholic Church. Daring to heal with more than bloodletting and silly ineffective salves. You say a silent prayer to the Goddess for your gift and pray that in the afterlife, your actions bring this woman peace. That in some small way, this is justice served. Your mind cannot stray too far from the task at hand. It takes effort still to call forth what you want to record. You’re still learning how to focus in one individual piece of information in the constant influx of fluff and nonsense. 

Steve is writing a list of bands, Natasha is doing an equipment inventory, Bruce and Tony are recording data, Thor is writing a bawdy poem to amuse himself, Loki is translating, an intern is writing dirty texts to a receptionist… It never ends. You let it flow around you, pouring out the words of the Scottish Witch onto paper. Recording her pictures of plants as she had drawn them. To anyone else, it looks like you are asleep sitting up but for the movement of your hands. When Loki sticks his head in your office, at 3:30 when you still hadn’t brought him tea, he slips back out again quietly, unwilling to break your concentration. The serenity of it is rare. Often it is painful and you struggle to maintain any sort of focus for more than an hour or so. Wong sticks his head in the door shortly after to tell you that they are leaving and Stephen stops, staring. He’s never seen anything like this.

Your hands move with speed. Recording writing not your own as quickly as it comes to mind. The stack of Vellum under your free hand growing thicker by the minute. He wants to say it’s like watching a copier machine but somehow it isn’t that either. Your eyes are closed and your foot is tapping gently under the desk. He has questions but Wong merely gently moves him back and quietly shuts the door.

Wong gestured him down the hall, “How?” Strange asked. Wong shrugged, “It is old magic, some of the oldest on Earth… Archives. Archives are a law unto themselves. When humanity first learned to write, to record events. They never considered those events might be lost. Until they were. So, magicians, wizards, gods… they compiled the sum total of all their knowledge. Compiled it and the goddess Seshat was tasked with finding one person to give it all to. She created the Archives when she gave the knowledge to her Daughter. The Archives are a living record of all that has been so that we might have a better future.” Stephen nodded, he’d heard all that before. But that did not explain how it worked. Or how you wielded so much power. 

Hours later when you had run out of things to write from your Scottish Witch, your eyes burned and your head ached. You needed to move. You stood slowly, rubbing the cramp from your hand with a groan and hobbled to the door, stiff from sitting in one position so long. You peek in Loki’s office with a soft smile, he’s still bent over his desk, translating. “Loki?” you ask softly. His head pops up, he’s ready to be irritated until he sees it’s you and his face softens a little, “Finally,” he grouses without any real heat, “You missed tea time, you know.” You wince, “Sorry,” you say, “I don’t really have a way to keep track of time when I’m that far in my head. Everything just kinda… stops.” Loki stands and rounds the desk, pulling you to him and kissing your forehead, “You’re back with me now, darling,” he said quietly. You look a little drained. Pale. Like you pushed too hard. Your lips are dry and too warm against his when he kisses you and your hands are clammy. He tuts gently, “I should have made you take a rest, and made you have tea with me.” 

You shake your head, “I just need a walk. Maybe some water. I’ll be okay.” He presses a cool hand to your neck and you lean into the touch. It was nice. Like walking into a cool room after a run in the heat. He frowns and tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow gently. He thought you needed a lie down in a dark room and several glasses of water. Possibly dinner and your hair played with until you relaxed. 

He walks with you and he’s pleased that the silence is companionable. Comfortable. You never do just want to fill the empty air with talk. Though, with the amount of “chatter” as you call it, in your head; the silence is probably more comfortable. In the commons, you help yourself to yogurt and some fruit before getting a glass of water and sitting at the table. Loki stays near you. He’d like to be touching you. Preferably while naked and making you say his name in bliss but he can be patient. For now. 

You seem better. Still pale and overtired but better. Loki goes to get his own snack and it isn’t until he turns at a small thud and flurry of movement, seeing you slumped over, blood flowing from your eyes and nose that he realizes things are not better. He cries out wordlessly and scoops you up, half running up to medical, cradling you as close to him as he can. Your body is burning, blazing hot. So hot you’re uncomfortable for him to even hold. He stammers out what happened in a panic as medical converges on him calmly. 

There’s surprisingly very little worry as they inject you with something to stop the bleeding and pack your body in ice to stop your brain from frying. Loki is pacing in the hall, still covered in your blood and trembling when Natasha comes around the corner, “You okay?” she asks him. “Do I look okay?” he snaps. She holds out a placating hand, “She’ll be okay,” the spy said calmly. Steve appears not long after, “What’d she do this time?” he asked. Natasha shook her head, “Probably just overwork. If it was a cursed book why’d have called in a witch.” Loki looks between them. You’re half dead and they’re treating this like another day at the office. “This has happened before?” he asked incredulously. Steve and Natasha both nod but it’s Natasha who speaks, “Not so much now but when she first became the Archive it was like once a week… The first time I saw it happen I was terrified. Just Mid conversation about School blood started pouring out of her face and she fell over onto the floor.” She shivered, “Coulson had to carry her. Neither Clint nor I could do it. We were shaking too hard.”

Loki watched as you started to come around slowly. “Fuck me, really?” he hears you say, “I liked this shirt.” Against his will, he snorted.


End file.
